


Texts

by bellafeir



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Chocolate, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Panic, Hoodies, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Letters, M/M, Packages, Size Difference, Snapchat Screenshots, Suggestive Themes, Surprises, Texting, Video & Computer Games, based on real life, coming to terms with yourself, falling asleep on facetime, oversized hoodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28931925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellafeir/pseuds/bellafeir
Summary: Based on real events from December 1st to December 12th, 2020.________________________________________________________________When George explodes over text about the recent speculation and Dream's tweet, it causes a realization to spark in him. As he soon accepts what he's gotten himself into and sends a few bold messages, his texts with Dream become more and more real, their lives soon bleeding together as packages are sent across seas.(Started out as writing what I imagined their texts to be at the time, but ended up picking up a storyline.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 455





	1. Jackbox Flirting

**Author's Note:**

> Dream always uses lower case and George types with Capitalization!
> 
> Please do not repost my work.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George gets upset and Dream pushes him further than anywhere they've gone before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, this Isn't my best writing but I can assure you I get better and better as the chapters go on. If this really doesn't interest you, please don't be afraid to check out my other work! I've been told the people who do never regret it. :)
> 
> Takes place on December 1st, 2020.

"Alright, g'night guys," Karl said leaving the call.

Karl had finally ended his stream and George knew it was time to take care of the egging thought in the back of his mind. The one thing that had been bothering him though all the jokes and throughout the night.

He left the call as well, opened up his discord, and opened his and Dream's personal messages, trying one out and sending it before he could think otherwise, much less finish it.

> _I've told you dream I'm not_

Before he could type the next part, a response appeared in the chat.

>> _not what_

George couldn't hold it in; his fingers whirled on the keyboard. He let everything out everything he had been holding back the last few days. He sent his message:

> _GAY. I'm not gay dream. You keep making all these moves and the way you act... It's more than usual. I know it's a joke and we both do it but it's too much for two guys that are just friends. You said it yourself in your tweet we aren't dating. We've gone over it a thousand times about where our relationship stands. The jokes are just jokes, Dream._

His phone buzzed after a few more seconds.

>> _is that really how you feel_

George blinked. Dream had never gone this far. He didn't know how to react. It was different; not what he expected. It wasn't the usual, "okay okay im sorry," or the, "come on george take a joke"

> _Dream_

>> _is that how you feel about me_

> _Yes._

George got up, a huff of air escaping though his lips. Why was Dream being like this? He stretched, pushed his chair in, and was about to leave the whole desk entirely when he saw another message.

>> _then why do you joke back_

Slightly furious, he sat back down.

> _What_

>> _why do you play along_  
_why do you flirt back_

> _I don't flirt dream_

>> _you're avoiding the question_

If this was a real conversation in real life, George would be stuttering trying to come up with a good reply.

>> _you enjoy it_

> _I don't_

His fingers whriled over the keys.

>> _you do_

> _I told you i'm not gay_

>> _neither am i_

> _Why are you pushing this_  
_Why are you trying to make something out of nothing_  
_We've never talked about it like this before_  
_Where did this come from_

>> _nothing?_  
_why are you suddenly acting like this isn't something we both equally take part in_  
_something we both think about_  
_something we both avoid_

> _I'm not_

>> _you're avoiding it right now_

> _What do you want me to say dream_

>> _i want you to admit it_

George began to type.

>> _not that you're gay_

He stopped typing.

>> _but that you do feel something_

George sat, hands frozen, hovering over the letters on the set up below his chest.

>> _i feel something george_

He gulped, all his fear and anger washing away like a cool summer rain and being replaced with timidness and longing.

>> _what are you scared of?_

> _I_  
_I don't know_

He was being honest. How could he know? Out of nowhere Dream just decided to spring this on him. They- they always denied it to each other. They always told themselves it was different. Why did Dream suddenly want it to change?

>> _so you do feel something_

This was becoming all too much for George. His mind was spinning and this body felt lost and confused.

> _Dream just stop_

>> _okay_


	2. Thin Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George comes to a realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place the morning of December 2nd, 2020.

George awoke almost as if the entire world sat at the pit of his stomach. He had had all night to think about the conversation with Dream yesterday. All night to dwell in the words that Dream had typed just for him to see them on his screen. How much he must mean them...

He hated to admit it, but he felt bad for being mad about it. Dream was everything to him, aside from the possibility of where their relationship may, could, or could not go. It hurt to tell himself this but he had to admit it before he could admit the other part to himself.

This was, that he did in fact, feel something for Dream that he had never felt with anyone else. He wouldn't call it a crush and he _definitely_ wouldn't even call it specifically romantic, but it was there.

_Romantic._

The word hovered in his brain.

What even _was_ romantic? Giving your time, your energy, to a person. Appreciation and loving that person. Them loving you back... Maybe it was late-night calls and sappy apologies when you forgot to text. Maybe it was face timing to show them how much you loved the new present that they'd got you and how it'd just arrived. Maybe it was eating dinner together in a discord call because both of you felt just a tad bit lonely and couldn't stop thinking about them the entire day. Maybe it was pulling them out of the main voice call just to tell them how much you loved them...

George picked up his phone off the nightstand, unlocked it, and went straight to his and Dream's texts.

> _I do feel something_  
_10:27 am_

He turned his ringer on and laid back, staring at the ceiling, waiting for a response. It wasn't long before he heard Dream's text tone.

he picked the phone back up and propped an elbow into his mattress to hold himself up.

>> _you do?_  
_10:30 am_

> _I do_  
_It's just_

George paused and tried to think.

>> _just what_

He typed his next words with a crooked expression, trying to put his thoughts to text.

> _You scare me sometimes_

Shit. That wasn't exactly what he meant. It sounded bad with no context.

>> _i scare you?_  
_what?_

> _Nono_  
_Sorry that wasn't right_  
_I mean_  
_You_  
_You make me panic_  
_Like inside_

There was a moment without a response. George could almost hear the chuckle that was sure to have come with Dream's following text.

>> _how_

> _Dream the way you say things..._  
_It's hard not to_

Dream was typing before he could finish his text chain.

>> _it's hard not to talk to you like that george_  
_10:32_

George's breath hitched and he typed his next words carefully.

> _We should talk more often then_  
_10:33_

It was a little stupid because they talked all the time, but George didn't care; Dream would know what he meant.

>> _i agree_  
_i really like talking to you_

> _I like talking to you too dream_  
_... I love talking to you_

Then nothing. No response.

George knew Dream was trying to come up with something to say. Something that would probably make Goerge giggle, something that would make him blush.

He was typing and pressing send before he knew it, taken with emotion.

> _It-_  
_It's like we're dancing around this line_

An immediate response.

>> _it's a very thin line isn't it_

> _It is_  
_10:35_

Time felt like it was going a million miles a minute.

>> _what if we stopped dancing_  
_10:37_

George was confused all over again.

> _What..?_  
_10:37_

>> _what if we stopped dancing_  
_and just crossed it_

George's breath caught, realizing the extent of Dream's words.

> _Dream u live like a thousand miles away_

>> _you didn't say no_  
_10:39_

> _Dream_

>> _what if we crossed the line george_  
_what would be so wrong about that_

George's mind gave up, fully admitting it by typing a single word. 

> _nothing_

>> _nothing_


	3. That was Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George makes a comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do not repost my work.

"Tommy, okay, listen. You fucked up this time."

George sat at his desk. Arms pulled to hold his knees to his chest, a warm blanket wrapped around him. He wasn't really involved with the lore. He didn't really care for it. But he found himself watching this, sitting here all morning, intrigued with Dream's character since he woke up an hour ago.

George hadn't expected Dream to cuss, though, and he had to admit: it was rather attractive.

"Dream, Dream, don't swear, please," Tommy said with a meek chuckle, his fear reverberating through the screen.

George set his chin onto his knees, laying his head down, not expecting the next words Dream was about to speak.

"No. No, no, no, no. I. don't. give. a. _fuck_... about spirit."

George's eyes widened, pulling his head up to pay more attention.

"I don't care about anything actually- I care about your disks."

George swallowed.

Dream was yelling now.

"I care more about your disks than you do! That's the only thing I care about on the server- actually."

George looked away from the screen, chuckling and shaking his head at his own smirk that so undoubtedly came from Dream's aggression. He internally scolded himself.

"I don't care about Spirit. Spirit was my horse- died- ages ago. I care about your disks, cause that's what gives me power over _you_ and your _friends_ , _everybody_ that you care about. Cause you care about your disk, more than anyone else here."

George bit his lip and giggled.

Dream raised his voice yet again, making his mic co crackly with the volume.

"So, if YOU are not EXILED-"

His voice went calm again.

"-from L'amanburg, I will build these walls until they reach this block limit. I will keep everybody inside."

George had already picked up his phone. He couldn't help but want to tease Dream about it.

Dream continued to yell until shortly after, leaving the voice call, he exited from the stream and ran away with his's character.

George giggled at the text message in his typed box. He pressed send.

> _That was hot_  
 _12:43_

It took a while for Dream to respond, but when he did, it was priceless.

>> _george_  
 _come on_

George typed out his next response, the smile creeping back on his face.

> _It was_  
 _12:52_

>> _so nowwww you wanna be bold_

> _Maybe I do_

This was the kind of flirting they usually did; random texts, short comments.

>> _you're such an idiot_

George decided to joke about it some more.

> _So the only things you care about are the disks..?_  
 _Something isn't adding up... is it dreammmm_

He raises an eyebrow and smiles, already picturing Dream's expression on the other end.

>> _hmmm_  
 _12:57_

George was feeling sassy today.

> _Don't wanna answer?_  
 _That's fine_  
 _1:00_

>> _george you're like a different person lmao_

> _No not really_

George was now feeling... bold.

> _I'm just nudging the line_  
 _1:02_

>> _everyone's catching on_  
 _1:04_

> _I mean, they knew before we did_

>> _i knew before they did_

> _Oh?_

George felt his chest fill with warmth. Dream doting on him just made him feel giddier.

>> _i like it when you're bold_

> _Hmm_

>> _mimicking me now?_

> _I would never_

>> _keep talking to me like this_

> _Hmm idk dream_

George knew what he could say next. He wanted to say what he was thinking. But was it too past their line? Oh, wait. "Nudging the line..." Here went nothing.

> _You called me a bottom._

The text bubble appeared and then disappeared. Seconds ticked by.

>> _i'm not wrong_

George impulsively looked away when he saw it, cheeks warm and smile plastered onto his expression. He shook his head, chuckling, and typed his reply.

> _dream_  
read 1:12 pm


	4. Dethroned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Dream dethrones George, he texts Dream seeking an explanation for is rude behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dream said they use emojis so i'm making them use emojis now. also AS MUCH AS I HATE THE LAUGHING EMOJI, i feel like they would use it so i used it here don't kill me
> 
> Takes place December 3rd, 2020.

"Just say you hate me," George turned his character's head to the ground.

Okay, he was acting, yes. But why was Dream being so heartless? This had just come out of nowhere. He knew that after Dream and he talked about it, they both figured it would probably better if he wasn't king, but why was Dream doing it like this?

> _Wtf dream_  
_9:03_

Dream continued to talk to Punz, agreeing with him and saying that Eret would do a far better job.

> _Dream_  
_9:12_

"You didn't do anything as king," Dream had said a minute ago. "You didn't decree anything."

George remembered what he had said.

"I've been the best King this server has ever had."

"I agree, I agree," Dream had spoken. "But you've also been the least safe king because you get attacked all the time because people don't like you."

Because people don't like you.

He tried not to let it bother him, but George couldn't help but feel slightly hurt.

> _DREAM_  
_Why are you ignoring my texts_  
_We're in VC ik ur there_  
_9:30_

"That's all. It's done. We can move on now. We can move on." Dream ushered them away with his character, moving along the prime path.

> _Dream what is going on_  
_read 9:46_

George saw the read message. And it pissed him off. Dream wasn't going to respond, was he. He was just being an asshole for no reason.

George began to zone out, thinking that maybe this wasn't related to just the game. Had he done something? Did he upset him somehow? He probably had.

A cloud of self-pity and uneasiness settled around him. He hated to think that this had been caused by something he had put into action.

Usually, Dream was good at keeping his feelings off-stream, not affect his on-stream emotions. Something wasn't right. It didn't add up.

>> _i'm so sorry ik you knew i was gonna do that but i had to make it believable and dramatic and piss you off and i really hope you know i didn't mean any of those things i said also i'm ordering food to ur house to make it up to you rn :)_  
_10:12_

A flood of relief washed over George, letting his tense muscles relax and his heart rate and worry calm down.

> _Oh my god dream_  
_10:17_

>> _ily :)_

> _I swear I thought you were actually_  
_being mean for real_

>> _i wasn't :(_

George couldn't help but smile at his screen.

> _I know :)_  
_You care about me_

>> _i do_  
_and not just in the bit_

An audible giggle left George's mouth, his smile creeping further up the edges of his face as he typed out his favorite response; creds to Twitter.

> _:]_

>> _the twitter smile_  
_really george_ 😂  
_you're like a different person whenever we talk about this lmao_  
_you're a different george every time_

It was time to be a tiny bit sassy. He decided the conversation needed some spice.

> _Well which one do you like the most_

>> _i like all of them_

George wanted an answer.

> _But which do you like the most_

>> _well how many are there_  
_who's to say i've met them all_  
_what if there's a part of you i still don't know_ 😶

> _Lmao_  
I'm pretty sure u know all of me

>> _that's good i wouldn't want any surprises_

George scoffed aloud, rolling his eyes.

> _Dream_ 😂

>> _yes_ 🥰

What was it that dream always said? You're such an idiot. But how could he mimic the tone...

> _Ugh you're such an idiot_ 😏

>> _GEORGE_  
_WHAT IS THAT EMOJI_

> _IM KIDDING IT WAS SARCASTIC_

>> _GEORGE_

> _I WAS MIMICKING HOW U SAY IT BUT IN TEXT_

>> _ohhhh mhm sureeeee_

> _Dreammmmm_  
_come on_

George giggled, his expression beaming him with pure joy and enthusiasm.

The conversation was over, but he didn't want it to be.

> _Hey what are u doing rn?_

>> _i'm eating fooooood_  
_yours should be to ur house in 10 minutes_

> _Does it taste goooood?_

>> _well yes_

There was an awkward pause as George typed out a message, but then delegated it right away and then typed out the situation, explaining himself.

> _I was gonna make another joke but i think it doesn't fit the george i'm playing right now yk_

>> _say it_  
_i like all the george_ 😏

George lost it. High pitched laughs, void of any breath in between, spilled out of his mouth. His fingers typed on the keyboard rapidly.

> _NOW YOU'RE USING IT_

>> _JUST SAY IT I WANNA KNOW NOW_

> _NO_

>> _SAY WHAT U WERE GONNA SAY_

> _NOOOOO_

>> _please_ 🥺

The eyes. The fucking puppy dog eyes. IT WAS EVEN OVER TEXT?! HOW WAS GEORGE FALLING FOR THE EYES?

> _dream_  
_you don't know what ur begging for_ 😶😶

>> _oh well now u haveeeee to tell me_  
_10:23_

He pulled up the front of his sweatshirt to his nose to hide his face with one arm and slowly typed out the message he would have sent earlier if he hadn't been too chicken. His cheeks were unbelievably red.

> _"You know what else would taste good..."_  
_10:25_

>> _WHAT_  
_GEORGE_

He needed a quick out, and he used Quackity's upcoming stream as an excuse.

> _GTG_ 😊 _QUACKITY IS WAITING_

_ >> _GEORGE_  
_read 10:27pm__


	5. The Package

George rolled out of bed, the same routine as always; bathroom, kitchen, desk. He yawned and glanced at his clock to check the time.

_4 pm_

He grimaced.

His sleep schedule had slowly gotten worse over the past few days, just after he had finally gotten it straight, weeks before. He tried to keep his sleep schedule in relation to his friends, but lately, it had been slipping.

After successfully making a trip to and from the toilet, he brushed his teeth and checked his phone. George thumbed, through endless Twitter mentions and unimportant discord notifications. His email was sure to be overflowing, as he hadn't checked it in ages.

Knowing his mom would probably be downstairs, busing herself with her next Facebook post, sipping her home-brewed iced tea, or even watching a movie on the couch, he decided to embark on his journey down the stairs.

"Mum?"

No response.

Maybe she was out?

George left the last step and turned into the kitchen, eyeing the bright blue note waiting at the table for him. He picked it up. It read.

_I went to get groceries._   
_Text me before 4 pm if u need anything <3_

Well, it was too late for that.

He set the note back down and walked over to the fridge. He was low on groceries...

Maybe if he texted her now, he could catch her in time. George pulled out his phone.

> _Can u get me some eggs and those pre-packed sandwiches I usually get?_

He waited. No response.

Oh well.

George slipped his phone back into his pocket and looked back up at the fridge, doors still ajar from his forgetfulness. He could eat an old steak burrito, pasta from his mom's cooking 2 nights ago, or the leftovers from the meal Dream had door-dashed him the night before.

His choice was obvious.

Grabbing the expensive-looking leftover box from the fridge, he decided on a warm cup of tea to go with his meal. George turned to his electric kettle and grabbed a fork from the left drawer, the silverware rattling as he closed the compartment. George leaned against the counter with his back, opened the box, stabbed his fork in, and brought a bite of the food to his promptly awaiting mouth.

The was a shuffling at the door.

What was it?

_Who_ was it?

He turned around, mouth full of food, and looked out the window to his porch. He probably looked ridiculous.

The postman had left a box on the ground, along with his normal pile of mail, in his open-faced mailbox.

George hadn't ordered anything recently..? What could it possibly be?

He set the food down and finished chewing as he walked over to the door. George looked out the window at the package again, his eyebrows knit, mouth full, still chewing. He swallowed and reached for the door handle.

Outside, the package waited for him, sitting like a lazy cat on a warm summer eve. George retrieved the mail first, and then bent down and looked at the label on the mysterious brown box. It read:

**DreamBranding.com**   
**2200 Winter Springs**   
**Ste# 106-234**   
**Oviedo FL 32765**

What? George knew he hadn't ordered merch, but he had suspicions of who may have...

George brought the box inside and set it on the counter. He retrieved the kitchen scissors from the bottom drawer, sliced open the box, and opens the flaps. Reaching inside the box, he pulled out an item in a black plastic bag and a folded paper note.

George opened the note first. It was printed out, and the letters inside were typed in dark navy ink.

_you look good in green even though you can't see it_   
_ily_   
_-dream / c._

George blinked. His heart seemed to tighten in his chest. Was it hot in his house? He made a mental note to open his kitchen window later.

Now to the package...

Ripping open the plastic, George tore into his unexpected gift. Sure enough, he pulled out what he assumed to be a new, green smile hoodie. He ran his hands along the fabric; It was as soft as a cloud.

He let a smile grow on his face. Although he didn't know it, pink flushed over his cheeks.

He pulled out his phone at once and opened messages.

> _Did you send me a package?_

He got a response in what seemed like minutes.

>> _did u not read the note_

> _I did_

>> _well_  
have u tried it on?

> _No_

>> _try it on_

George paused but then set down his phone and removed the hoodie from its place tucked under his arm. He let it unfold, falling downwards from the hood.

He sighed, suppressed his smile, and headed upstairs.

Once in his room, he stood in front of the mirror, hoodie in hand. George hesitated.

>> _is it on_ 😏

He typed a reply.

> _It will be if you stop using that emoji_

George tossed his phone to his bed. After subtlety biting his lip, he parted the bottom of the sweatshirt and fed his arms through the sleeves, popping his head out the top.

He instantly chuckled a closed-lip laugh at his reflection. It was amazing how much a piece of clothing could improve your mood.

He picked up his phone again.

> _It's on_

>> _send me a photo_

> _What_

>> _u heard me_  
 _send a photo_

> _Sassy are we_  
 _read 4:40_

George debated snapping a photo but decided he wasn't going to submit that easily.

> _How did you know my size?_

>> _u talked about it on Karl's stream yesterday_  
 _you said you were a medium_

> _I did_

>> _and you also said you were gonna trade hoodies with Karl_

> _I did_

>> _well now you don't have to_  
 _you can wear mine instead_

George held back another smile and rolled his eyes.

> _Well it's not yoursssss_

>> _well_  
 _no_  
 _but it's my merch_  
 _were you expecting something different?_

> _I wasn't expecting anything at all_  
 _How did you get this to my house so quick?_

>> _express shipping_

> _You paid for overnight delivery just because you were jealous that I was going to trade hoodies with Karl?_

>> _i'm not jealous_

> _You so are_

>> _am not_  
 _i'm sticking my tongue out at you right now_

> 😏

>> _hypocrite_

George could almost hear Dream's light-hearted chuckle call him the name. A chill ran down his spine.

>> _send a photo_  
 _in my hoodie_  
 _plzzzz_

> _But it's not yoursssss dream_

>> _you're such an idiot_

> _I'll send you a picture when you send me your hoodie._

>> _bet._

> _Wait_  
 _What?_

>> _guess i'll just have to send one of mine_  
 _i'm getting that photo_

George's stomach flipped in the excitement that mimicked a drop on a roller coaster. It may be a little random but he wanted to tease Dream a little. Just playfully, nothing over the top. He held out his hand and took a photo of the sleeve compared to his skin, fingers spread apart, displaying for the camera. He knew Dream wanted one in the mirror, a full-body image, but he would just have to make do with this. 

> _*photo*_  
 _read 4:46_

...

>> _Dream_

> _yes_

>> _Do I really look good in green dream_

> _yeah_  
 _i guess the green sweatshirt suits you_  
 _but you'll look better in my hoodie_


	6. Hoodies and Chocolates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream's sweatshirt arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do not repost my work
> 
> Takes place 12/9/20.

There it was, sitting on his porch. George could see out his window.

He'd been staring at it all day, not daring to step a foot outside. It almost scared him... The thing inside that package seemed to be "too good to be true." It was almost unattainable in his head. So... how did he attain it?

He advanced down the stairs once again and peeked through the hole in the door, eyesight resting on the forbidden gift.

George had been avoiding it, doing everything in his power to distract himself or prolong his satisfaction when he could finally lay his hands on the beautiful brown box, patiently waiting to be received, outside his house.

He could have gotten it when he woke up, but he decided to edit instead. Then, he could have gotten it when he decided to make a late lunch, but again, he didn't. The sun was going down, and the package was still at his doorstep.

See, George wasn't avoiding it to torture himself; he wasn't _trying_ to make the experience miserable at all. He just kept pushing it away. It was almost as if the longer he knew it sat there, and the longer he had to wait to get it, the more rewarding it would be. Every time he told himself he would go out to take it up in his hands, he found another thing to do; balancing along what seemed to be the edge of a very steep cliff of anticipation and reward.

George stepped away from the door. He stood up and down from the tips of his toes at a fast pace, his hands balled into fists at his sides. It was time to open the door. He sighed and reached a hand out but hovered over the handle.

He thought about what was in the box... of who it belonged to. He thought of Dream in that hoodie: stepping out of bed, standing up in front of his window in the golden sunlight, picking up the hoodie from lying draped over his chair; him pulling it over his head, beginning the start to his day... sitting on the couch, scrolling through Twitter or some other app, maybe looking at the scores to some sports game, but warm and cozy, still in the same sweatshirt... cooking something sweet, with the hoodie's sleeves rolled up and an apron tied around his waist, humming a tune he had probably got stuck in his head all day... sitting at his desk, listening to music with the volume turned up, head against his chair, and the sweatshirt's hood covering his head and hair... gripping the neckline of the fabric and pulling it upwards, the bottom of the hem flinging up past his stomach and over his bare chest once again...

_Snap out of it._

George's soft palms gripped at the door nob. He turned it to the left; the door swung open.

There it was. Sitting, tranquil, calling to him.

George had retrieved it and had it upstairs and on his bed in what seemed like a matter of seconds. He sliced it open and held his breath. There, beneath him, was a hoodie. Navy blue, and looking soft as ever, it waited for George's touch.

The lights in his room were dim, and a purple glow emitted from somewhere on his desk, illuminating the hollow shadows that cascaded across his closet doors and onto his ceiling.

He pressed his hand to the intricately woven threads and slid it up, feeling every fiber of mesmerizing color.

Carefully, George lifted it out of the box. He held it up, his cheeks warm. It looked to be bigger than the sweatshirts he usually wore. George pulled the hoodie to his chest and bent his neck so that his nose was nuzzled against the fabric. He couldn't help it.

The sensation he got was far from placid. The sweet smell ignited a fire in him while making him feel dizzy and flushed at the same time. He felt soft, yet the flame within him was at the highest it had ever been. It smelled _good_.

George's eyes fell on a small box underneath where the sweatshirt had been. It had a little note stuck to the top.

He threw the hood of the jacket over his shoulder and bent down to see what else was in the box.

He read the note, detaching it from the box beneath:

_i think they're gross, but i know you love them <3 _  
_-c._

No "-Dream" this time? George noticed he had only signed with a "C" and left off the other part he usually most intently wrote.

What lay beneath him inside the gift box was a container of milk chocolate covered raisins. He smiled. For all the times Dream had bullied him for liking them, this was quite doting up of him.

Along with the empty cardboard box, George moved the raisins to his desk and picked up his phone, opening his messages with Dream.

> _I opened the box_

>> _do you like it?_

> _Which thing_

>> _both things_

> _I do_  
_Lol_  
_Thank you for the chocolate Dream_

>> _no problem_  
_anything for youuuuuu_

> _I love you dream_

He knew that was bound to shock him a little. He was surprised Dream kept his calm.

>> _i love u too_  
_is it on_

> _The sweatshirt_  
No

>> _would you please put it on_  
and i don't suppose you forgot about the other part of the deal, george

> _i didn't_

Dream wanted his photo.

George took the hoodie off his shoulder, set down the phone for a quick moment, and slipped the navy fabric on in one swift movement. His heart pounded in his chest. He stared into his mirror.

The sleeves were quite long, and the coat's rim went a few inches past his hips. It was a good quality sweatshirt, too; the inside was lined with warm, fuzzy cotton, and the hoodie strings were knotted and sturdy. George twirled one of them around his finger as he admired his reflection.

His phone buzzed, and he glanced at the lock screen. Dreams new message displayed:

>> _are you gonna send it, or am i gonna have to facetime u_

The fire in his stomach grew.

He clutched the phone and typed out his next message:

> _Facetime me_

It was only a few seconds before his phone started to buzz.

George covered the lower part of his face with the sleeve. Forgetting he had forgotten the smell, and closing his eyes, soaking in the smooth scent of pine and faint sweet lavender. He opened his lids again and aimed the camera at his face but left his hand to cover his mouth and the bottom of his nose.

He pressed the answer button.

The FaceTime sound echoed aloud in his room, and the big square his face was displayed on shrunk into the corner of his phone, a plain black background now being revealed. George rolled his eyes and sat down on his bed, falling to his stomach with a giggle. He moved his hand under his chin to support his head and stared into the dark abyss. He sighed. What else could he have expected...

"Dream, we facetime all the time. For god's sake, I'm wearing your _hoodie_ , and all I get is a black screen," he teased.

"Aw, just hearing my voice isn't enough?"

George swallowed. Dreams voice sounded like he just woke up, cracky and raw.

"You get to see me..." George tried to convince him.

"I get to see you all the time," Dream responded with a chuckle.

George decided to move on. "Do you want me to flip the camera in front of the mirror for you?" He paused. _For you?_ Why did he say that?

"I would _love_ that," Dream's voice dropped to a low hum.

Instead of responding, George got up, off of his mattress, and stepped in front of the large reflective surface once again. He glanced down at the phone and bit his lip, forgetting Dream could see him.

Dream hummed.

George angled the back of the phone at the base of the mirror and flipped it, the screen now showing the bottom of his mirror as well. He brought his hand, covered in sleeve fabric, to cover his face again, only showing his eyes as he moved up the angle of the camera to display his full image, head to knees.

There was audible tense silence and then a low chuckle.

George wasn't prepared for the next very soft but very deep-toned word that came out of the speaker.

"Fuck..."


	7. Streamys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George reminisces on the night he facetimed Dream and congratulates him after Dream wins his first Streamy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do not repost my work.
> 
> December 12th, 2020

George wished more than anything to be on call with Dream the night of the Streamys. He didn't even bother to ask because he knew Dream would probably be with his family; he usually was when these things came along. He didn't feel hurt, but he almost felt... well, jealous. He shook off the feeling, though. He could text him anyway.

George's mom was asleep, and he was contently sitting at his desk on the side of his room, knees pulled up, scrolling through useless emails on his phone. It was around 1:40 am, an average night for George; he often stayed up to ungodly hours on calls with his friends or taking care of work that had to get done.

George looked down at his sweatshirt, or rather, Dream's sweatshirt. His mind began to drift... drift back to a few nights ago.

He smiled greedily to himself and buried his face into the side of his chair after turning his whole body to the side, bent knees and all. He brought a hand up and played with the taught leather on the headpiece, drawing insignificant, little circles as he recalled what had happened.

After the whole... mirror part, things kept... going. George giggled to himself, gushing like a teenage girl.

After teasing Dream a bit about how much he enjoyed seeing George in his hoodie, Dream began to tease him back, and a playful, flirty banter erupted between the two.

"Is it big?" Dream asked, sounding like an excited child waiting to get handed tickets to Disneyland.

"You saw it on me. What do you think, Dream," George audibly dragged out Dream's name, making the word much longer than it was originally meant to be.

"I just wanna hear you say it," Dream whispered, trying to hold in laughs.

"Of course you do. You just _love_ my voice, don't you," George said it sarcastically, but the path of their conversation was teetering between two best friends giggling at a sleepover and a couple's late-night pillow talk.

As much as they both wanted to know, neither of them would ask the other what they were doing. The way they were acting. They were... _flirting_... and before, they most definitely didn't flirt. Sure, they were used to joking on streams, and sure they were crossing the line they had previously avoided, but coquettish voice/video calls were very different than flirty texts. Especially when they were alone; secluded, and reticent. It added an element of secretiveness to their relationship, the teasing, the idea that they may tip off the edge of platonic every once in a while, whilst still having no one else know. Well, other than the stream slips and constant pandering, that is.

"I'm surprised it doesn't stink, Dream," George had teased.

"Oh, shut up. You know you love it on you," George heard Dream's low chuckle through the cracky speaker of the phone.

He could imagine Dream sitting at his desk and watching George through his own screen, a blue, purplish light illuminating his side profile, sitting there in nothing but a black t-shirt and sweats, his freckles, golden eyes, prominent nose...

God, George still didn't know what he looked like, and he was still so sure he has a perfect image of Dream. Of course, his thoughts were assisted by the glimpses of the corner or Dream's face very rarely on face time, or the top of his hair poking out the bottom of the screen in snaps. His mind drifted back to what Dream might look like right now on call with him but stopped himself. He almost felt ashamed, like he wasn't allowed to think of those things. But at the same time, it was so, so tempting, so _desirable_.

George rolled his eyes and flipped the camera back to his face. "You seem to love it on me too, huh Dream." His tone was taunting and childish.

"I'd love it better off of you."

George, sitting in the present, flushed at the thought of that one, single line that Dream had dared to let leave his mouth. His stomach tightened, and a small thread of tingles shot up his spine. His lips were frozen in a closed-lip smile, George lost in his own... _thoughts_.

He reached out his hand, making contact with the edge of his desk and pulling to the side to spin his chair as he recalled the rest of that night.

"Show me your face, Dreammmmmm," George help out his name again.

"George," Dream scolded. "You know what I'm gonna say to that."

"I know, I know. I don't mean your face but at least turn your camera on." He made a pouty face into the camera. "Pleaseeeeeee? Just an eye? A strand of your hair, good sir."

Dream lightly wheezed at the medieval reference.

"If you send me a photo of _you_ wearing _that_... I will."

And so, George slid Dream's FaceTime off the screen and opened snap. He wanted to know if Dream was going to save it, of course.

George stood in front of the mirror, awkwardly trying to decide how he would take the photo Dream so insistently wanted. After angling the camera just right, he bit his lip, looked away, and snapped the photo, embarrassed. He brought the screen down, and too his chest angled up at his face to examine the frozen image of himself. He didn't mean to make it look, well, slightly suggestive, but it was. One leg was crossed in front of the other, and with his head turned away and angled to the ground, the muscle on his neck and the line of his jaw was perfectly evident in the low light, shadows exaggerating the features on the side of his profile.

He thought about retaking it. His finger hovered over the button, but then, he pulled it away and looked at it again. Fuck it. He pressed the arrow sending the snap right on its way to Dream.

He imagined Dream's face when he saw it, a small smirk, maybe even a slight redness in his cheeks.

He went incredibly pink when the screenshot notification popped down from the top of his screen.

The rest of the night was a haze. Dream kept his promise and turned on his camera to display his ceiling and, sometimes, the top of his light golden-blonde hair. George crawled into bed, Dream beginning to talk about how much he was looking forward to Saturday. He went on and on about the new event in MCC and how he still missed parkour warrior, but parkour tag would have to do.

George set the phone down next to his head and got comfortable bringing the sleeve of Dream's hoodie to his nose once again and inhaling the sweet, sweet comfort. He listened to Dream talk about more geeky Minecraft stuff that, frankly, George couldn't even remember, but it wasn't like he had even cared as long as he got to hear Dream's voice. He even appreciated the way he hadn't had to talk, to just lay there in his own little fever dream, happily letting himself fall in love with the passion that Dream spoke.

He didn't remember when he shut his eyes, but when he woke up, he heard Dream's soft breaths in the background, still on call, and noticed a text that said:

>> _u fell asleep but i'm not gonna hang up_  
_ik ur gonna wake up first so go ahead and hang up when u see this so my alarm goes off later cuz it won't if you stay on :)_

Then he read the text sent a few minutes after the other one:

>> _ur snores are cute_

George's mind returned to real life. He sighed. Looking at the clock and noticing the time, he panicked.

_2:09 am_

Had he been daydreaming for that long? Shit, the Streamys had had already started.

He spun his chair to face his desk and spammed his space bar a few times to wake up his computer. As quick as he could, George opened up chrome and chocked on his bookmark for youtube, speeding him to the site he knew all too well.

There it was, the video flashed with **Premiering Now!** He clicked it and watched the little loading symbol shoot across the screen. He moved his mouse in circles, impatiently waiting for the circle on the youtube video to load.

Finally, the video began to play, picking up after everything George had missed, although he didn't care much; he was only watching these for one reason.

Almost 30 seconds after he began to watch, the title of Breakout Creator was introduced. Although Dream was nominated, George knew he probably wouldn't win this one; It's hard to win against teen girls with one hundred million devoted followers on Tiktok. As he predicted, Dream was not the winner, though Charlie D'Amelio was, and George snorted at her "acting surprised" for the camera.

After watching intently for about 5 more minutes, George realized that the Gaming section probably wasn't coming till later, so he decided to pick up his phone and scroll through Twitter. After getting bored of that leg leaned his head against his chair and let himself daydream some more.

Though, soon enough, he heard the title announcement.

"And the Streamy goes to..."

Dream's voice came through his speakers, and George's entire face lit up.

"Woah, okay, well, thank you so much for this award! I would have never thought that I'd be winning..."

George rolled his eyes at the ridiculous image of Dream's animated character speaking on the screen.

George watched the rest of the video and was so happy for his best friend he wasn't even bothered by the following performance of Dance Monkey that was quite precisely the _opposite_ of music to his ears.

He snatched up his phone, thumbs flying across the keyboard to type and send his joyous words directly to Dream.

> _CONGRATULATIONS 🥳_  
_YOU WON!!!!_

>> _I WON_  
_AHHHHH_

> _AHHHHH_

>> _I COULDN'T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU GEORGE_  
I LOVE YOU 

> _I love you too Dream!_

George grinned at the messages. He was so unbelievably proud. Just then, a Twitter notification popped up:

**Dream tweeted: [thank you guys so much ♥️]**

He replied with the first thing he could think of, not even bothering to switch to his alt account in all of his excitement.

**[DREAM!]**

Almost as soon as he tweeted it, he got a reply back.

**Dream tweeted: [GEORGE]**

The end of the night ended with Dream, George, and Sapnap voice calling, cheering Dream on, gifting him "after-hype," and George hollered and yelled with Sapnap. No words could explain how happy George was for Dream that night.


End file.
